Blurred Lines
by The Kerl
Summary: Episode tag to "Cold Lazarus" and companion piece to my other story, "Monopolizing Carter."


**This is a standalone drabble I wrote about a year ago for **_**Monopolizing Carter**_**, but ultimately I decided to cut the full flashback and went with a lighter version of Sara O'Neill. I've always found it interesting that the majority of the stories I've read that include her end up reconciling her behavior pre-movie and pre-series, but I wanted to play around with what could've happened if she wasn't quite as innocent as we all thought. The death of a child is a terrible thing, and I've always felt that it wasn't quite right that Jack was saddled with ALL of the blame for Charlie's death.**

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><p>Sam knocked hesitantly when she reached the front door. From inside she heard someone stumble to the door. Two voices – a man and a woman – argued, before the door opened and Sam found herself face-to-face with a stern, older man. "<em>You're<em> Captain Carter?" He looked her up and down with disdain, obviously displeased with her attire.

As soon as the call had come through, Sam had rushed over, her work in the lab abandoned. Although this man seemed to take issue with them, Sam took comfort in her fatigues. The last thing that she wanted was for anyone to think she was here as anything other than a colleague. Honestly, she wouldn't have been there at all if Hammond hadn't made his request a direct order. "Sir, I'm here to see Mrs. – " What was the woman's last name? "I was told she was very upset on the phone."

The man – Sam assumed he was her CO's former father-in-law – nodded and stepped aside to allow her through the door. "Look, I'm not going to pretend I'm happy about you being here. She needs to talk to somebody, but… Just, promise me you aren't here to try and patch things up for him. I have no idea what happened at that hospital, but she's all shook up and apparently it's more black op bull that I'm not allowed to know anything about it."

"Sir, I – she said she had some questions for me, but I'm not sure why she asked for _me_ spec-."

"Does he know you're here?"

"No."

"Good. I don't care what Sara says she thinks she needs. You tell him to keep the hell away. He's already done enough damage." He was out the door without another word, leaving Sam bristling in the doorway. She watched him walk to his truck and peel out of the driveway and for a long moment she contemplated following him. She had no right to be there. This was prying. This was crossing lines that shouldn't be crossed. There was a reason he never spoke about his family, and if it didn't come from him then she had no right to know.

But orders were orders. Sam closed the door and took a step forward, surveying the walls of the narrow hallway. Daniel was better with people. He should be the one intruding like this. He would comment on the fact that the walls were covered in scenery shots rather than family portraits and Colonel O'Neill would forgive him. The décor was glaringly feminine, as though the decorator had made an obvious effort to remove all traces of the home's former male occupants. What the hell was she doing there? Hadn't he promised to talk to her right before he'd taken the alien disguised as his son back through the gate? That was over a week ago!

Sam followed the sound of someone blowing their nose, her feet moving without her consent. She had to at least make an attempt at following Hammond's orders, though in the back of her mind she could only imagine how furious the colonel would be when he discovered she was there. This was a serious invasion of privacy. Surely he wouldn't object to someone bringing his ex comfort. Wasn't there some sort of obligation to your exes? Sure Jonas died, but not before Sam did everything she could to talk him down. Sam almost hoped Sara would attack her, so she would feel more in her element.

Habit forced her to peek around the corner before entering the small living room. Sara was curled up on the sofa with a small baseball glove cradled in her lap. On the coffee table sat a half-drunk bottle of wine and an empty glass. Crumpled tissues were strewn all over the place. "Thank you for coming. I can only imagine what you must be thinking. Here," she sniffed, grabbing another wine glass from a cabinet in the corner and offering it to Sam. "Please sit."

Sam sat down in an uncomfortable wing-backed chair that she was sure was designed for decoration and not everyday use, the empty wine glass cupped in her hands. "I understand you have questions about – about what you saw, but I can't really – ."

The other woman waved a dismissive hand through the air. She wasn't quite drunk. Yet. Sam considered pouring herself a glass for the sole purpose of cutting Sara off. "It wasn't him, and that's all I need to know. He isn't coming back to me." Sam wasn't sure which "him" she was referring to, and was unclear what she was supposed to be here for. On the drive over she'd prepared some valid half-truths, thinking that closure was really all this woman was looking for. "I wanted to ask how Jack is doing. I don't – I can't face him after… Well, it's better this way."

"I'm not sure I understand, ma'am."

"The man just showed up after walking out on me, and suddenly he wanted to talk about feelings, and he was crying, and I've never seen him like that. Seeing him – it was like a slap in the face. That – that thing, it was so unlike Jack but… but I wanted it to be him so badly, you know?" Sam said she didn't. "When I met Jack, he was so easy-going and funny that I really thought I knew him, that we had this connection. He never talked about his work – I mean, he couldn't, at least not with me – and I only saw it as a deterrent. I wanted to share everything with him, but the Air Force kept him away, kept part of his life a secret."

She gave Sam a pleading look, compelling her to chip in. "My dad was Air Force. I know how hard it is for the families."

Sara nodded with a bleary smile. "I thought I lost him when he went to Iraq. I still don't know any of the details, but he wasn't the same when he came home. He was distant, and he flinched when I touched him. I tried to talk him into retiring but he couldn't see how his work was killing him. It was obvious that I had to do something." Sam sat frozen as Sara explained how she tossed out her birth control without telling the colonel. "I waited to tell him until I was absolutely sure, and of course he was too old-fashioned to walk away from a baby. We were married three months later and he still refused to retire. He had a wife and a child on the way, yet his job was still his first priority. He was barely around during my pregnancy."

The picture she painted was difficult for Sam to reconcile with the man she knew. Then again, she'd only found out about his family history a week ago.

"He did make an effort to be at home after Charlie was born, but the Air Force was still his mistress. It drove me crazy when Charlie was old enough to realize that his dad didn't have a normal job like other dads. Jack didn't want to tell him anything about his life when he was away from home – hell, he barely talked to me about what he did."

"Well… It was classified. Ma'am." The words were painfully obvious and Sara rolled her eyes in a very O'Neill manner.

"Captain, the most I got out of him was that he'd been somewhere that didn't sell sun block. That's not the point, though. The point is that Jack was so determined to keep his life separated into neat little boxes that forbid war movies, toy guns… pretty much anything that would make Charlie understand that part of his occupation involved killing people. He didn't want him to idealize his work, or to worry about how many people were dead because of him."

Again, Sam felt compelled to speak. "My brother and I used to make up our own war games. We were pretty rough on each other, but that's part of being a kid, I think."

"I agree. That's why when Charlie's friends started organizing water fights after school, I didn't say anything about it to Jack. He didn't even know – ." Sara broke down entirely, but she kept talking. "Charlie traded his super soaker for a replica pistol for the week, only he dropped it in the sandbox and it got clogged up. He was so worried that he'd broken his friend's toy… I told him I would fix it, but Jack was coming home and I didn't want him to see the toy gun so I hid it…"

"… and Charlie… I'm so sorry." Sam wasn't sure what else to do, so she went to the bathroom in search of more tissues. Unable to locate any, she returned to the living room with a roll of toilet paper. Sara was better composed by the time she rejoined her, and thanked her for the toilet paper. "Does the colonel know about the water pistol?"

Sara shook her head and dabbed at her eyes. "No. He blamed himself for not locking up his gun, it was easiest to just put all the blame on him. He was always like that, always ready to take the blame when we fought even though it was usually my fault. For a soldier, the man really hated conflict."

He didn't know. He didn't know there had been a mix-up. He must have thought it was simple curiosity that had caused the accident, that he'd been careless and his son hadn't been able to help examining what had been kept from him for so long. After all, any kid playing with a gun would typically point it away from themselves, right? Charlie had a reason to look down the barrel of that gun, because he was trying to see if his mother had unclogged it yet. Colonel O'Neill had no idea what happened that day. That knowledge alone made her sick to her stomach.

"Forgive me, ma'am," she stumbled, still unsure how she was supposed to address this woman and struggling to reign in her anger. "I know this isn't my place to comment, but you asked me to come here and I did, and Colonel O'Neill deserves to hear what you just told me."

"I was hoping you would tell him."

Stunned, Sam slumped back in her seat. "Excuse me?"

Sara nodded in earnest, anxious for Sam to agree to her plan. "I've written him dozens of letters, but it seems so callous when it comes from me. If he hears it from you I'm sure he will understand that I had to blame him so that I could finally accept what happened."

"Callous. It sounds callous because that's exactly what it is. Ma'am, I am not comfortable involving myself in the personal affairs of my commanding officer. If you need to – ." She trailed off when the other woman snorted. "What's so funny?"

"Right, as if you aren't already involved in his personal affairs!"

"I beg your pardon? I'm here on order from General Hammond and for no other reason than that."

She waved a hand at her, swilling wine as she did so. "Ju-just look at you! You're exactly his type, more so than I w-was ever able to be. You can deny it all you want, but there is no way he isn't all over you."

"This is ridiculous. Ma'am, I'm sorry, but I believe you are intoxicated and that it is time for me to leave." Difficult though it was to admit it, Sara's accusations were not entirely unfounded. Sam enjoyed the flirty banter she shared with her CO, but that was all in good fun, wasn't it? Sure, there was a slight physical resemblance between her and his ex-wife, but it was a stretch at that. No, they fought more than anything, and Sam wasn't naïve – she knew she turned the majority of the heads on base. It was the price of being a woman in the military. And now this crazy woman was getting into her head! "If you have any further questions regarding the event with the alien entity, I am sure we will be able to find someone else who can answer you satisfactorily. Good night, ma'am."

Sam heard the sound of glass crashing as she retreated to her car, eager to get the hell out of the there. She knew it would be a long while before she could put this interview behind her, but she'd be damned if she ever told anyone what she knew. Not even Daniel, though he seemed to be the closest thing the colonel had to, well, anything.

No, Colonel O'Neill was never going to hear about this from Sam.


End file.
